The Gathering
by Thorongil82
Summary: The school term passes by much as expected, with the constant presence of more akumas causing some trouble for the Parisian heroes and Hawk Moth remaining hidden in the shadows. But, as the holidays come to a close and school returns once more, two new students are brought forth to the class, and more heroes come to join the fight as the evil set against them grows darker still.


**AN: Hello there. For those of you who don't know me, my name is Thorongil82. I have started writing a fair amount of stories on here, mostly for the How To Train Your Dragon and Big Hero 6 fandoms, but also dabbled in Pokemon and Kung Fu Panda. This, however, is my first Miraculous Ladybug story.**

 **I don't want to keep you too long, but I should first point out that this is set, as the summary more or less suggests, after the first season has finished. We don't quite have a time frame on when that does finish, but I'll certainly have some sort of date set soon for the story. Just going to point out that at this stage no reveals have taken place between Cat Noir and Ladybug. Sorry if that's a disappointment. Anyway, without further ado, let the story begin.**

 _ **Disclaimer: I do not own the Miraculous Ladybug franchise, nor any characters or fictional places associated with such. Any original characters however are of my own creation.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - Arrival**

" _Paris has been saved once again by our local superheroes, Ladybug and Cat Noir_ ," the voice of Nadja Chamack, TVi's head newscaster and reporter, states through the old radio sitting atop a small table within the oriental room. " _Amateur footage captured and posted on the Ladyblog website shows the daring duo hurrying down to the Louvre as the supervillain calling herself Pied Piper marched upon the famous monument with a plague of rats._ "

Sitting in a lotus position on a large mat in the centre of the room with his eyes closed is a short, elderly looking man, dressed in a red t-shirt patterned with white hibiscus flowers, tanned capri pants and dark brown shoes. A small smile crosses his aging face upon hearing the news, complete with short grey moustache, goatee and greying receding hairline. Around him the room is decorated with several Chinese influences, many exquisitely painted scrolls hang along the four beige walls with a couple of lantern inspired wall lights sticking out high on the left and right walls. Both the door leading into the room along with the doors on the cupboard tucked away into a corner of the room have bamboo designs stretching from top to bottom, while the room divider placed on the other side of the quarters contains a beautifully faded mountain landscape. To the right of the man are two large French doors that open out to a small balcony overlooking a bustling corner of the French capital, two rectangular pots filled with red hibiscus flowers hanging from the railing. Pressed against the far wall behind the man is a large mahogany chest of drawers, a large phonograph sitting atop it, while a small triangular bookshelf sits snugly into the nearby corner. Also pulled up next to the mat is a small circular table atop which sits five scented candles, all of different shapes, sizes, colours and smells, currently unlit, along with a plain wooden incense holder, a gong stand moved from its usual place on the cupboard between the doors and the old radio playing out the news of the day.

From out from the phonograph placed atop the chest of drawers shoots a tiny green creature, flying over to the table and floating in front of the radio as the news report continues on. The creature in question is turtle-like in shape, with lime green skin, yellow sclera eyes with juniper green pupils, an antenna sticking out from the top of its head, a pear green shell on its back, and a tiny tail accompanying the appendage-less arms and feet.

" _Panic had set into the populace of Paris as the city was flooded with thousands of rodents intent on taking the streets for themselves, under the command of the flute wielding female,_ " Nadja continued on. " _Pied Piper, revealed to be pet shop owner Piper Moreau, directed the rats of many sizes through the music emitted as she blew her flute, much like the character of legend with the same name. It wasn't long before our local heroes arrived, battling with rodents of unusual size and their mistress before being able to transform her and the capital back to normal_."

"It seems like they are getting really good at dealing with the akumas, master," the small green creature observes in a soft voice, his head turning to face the man meditating on the mat.

"It certainly does, Wayzz" Master Fu replies as he openes up his penny brown eyes, stroking his goatee with a smile.

" _Despite their victories over the numerous supervillains that have attacked Paris in the recent months, there is still no sign of the nefarious mastermind behind the creation and transformations of the city's citizens, Hawk Moth, since the very first attack._ "

"Just a shame they have not been able to track down Hawk Moth and Nooroo yet," Wayzz remarks, sounding a little disappointed.

"Have patience, Wayzz," Master Fu says as he took in a deep breath of air, releasing it slowly. "It is difficult to find someone who doesn't want to be found, especially when they leave no traces behind."

"Of course, master. I meant no ill will by it."

"Besides, it has only been a couple of months. For two new Miraculous users, they are progressing far better than many others have."

"Indeed," Wayzz agrees with a nod before a short knock on the door catches both man and kwami off guard.

"Hide quickly, Wayzz," Master Fu whispers, the kwami nodding before swiftly flying back into the horn of the phonograph. The elderly man reaches over and flicks off the radio as he waits until he sees the kwami disappear from sight before clearing his throat and addressing whoever was outside his room. "Come in."

Opening up the door and peering in head first was a youthful girl with gentle bluebell eyes, long night black hair done up in two pigtails, red hair ties holding them in place. Taking a step inside the room as the door widens a little more, she reveals her shadow grey blazer covering her white t-shirt, a pink and black floral design covering her chest on the right hand side, bubblegum pink trousers rolled up slightly while light pink ballet slippers adorn her feet. Hanging waist high from a black strap around her shoulder is a small flamingo pink purse covered in tiny white polka dots and a personalised design of two pink and white flowers outlined in black, blossoming on a black branch that grows from a circle with a petal circumference, the initial 'M' stitched within in cursive writing.

"S-Sorry, Master Fu," the teenage girl stammers, seeming a little out of breath. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"Not at all, Ladybug," he answers with a smile. "Please, sit down."

"You don't have to call me Ladybug, sir. Marinette is fine," she says, rubbing the back her head in embarrassment as she walks into the room, closing the door behind her. As she makes her way over to the mat, Master Fu shuffles over to the side of the mat closest to the French doors, giving her space to sit down.

"As you wish."

As the teenage superhero sits down onto the bedding, a small crimson creature roughly the same size as Wayzz phases out of the purse and flies around the in the air, circling around Marinette before levitating before the Great Guardian of the Miraculous. This kwami's head dwarfs the size of her body, the tiny thinness making it seem even larger. Her crimson skin is accompanied with a few large black spots, helping her resemble a ladybug, while two spindly antennae stick out from the back of her head. Two large, caring navy blue eyes look upon the aged man with deep respect as she bows her head in greeting.

"Good afternoon, master," she greets with a squeaky voice.

"Good afternoon, Tikki," he welcomes with a polite nod back.

Master Fu's eyes dart from Tikki back to Marinette, observing her posture and the way she carries herself. With his observing gaze, he notices that she seems far more slouched over than the other times that she had paid him a visit. Along with her breathing not having slowed down from when she was standing at his door, her eyes appear to be slightly vacant which coincide with the faint weariness etched into her expression – weariness that would have been well hidden to those without his carefully sharp observations.

"You look tired," he mentions, noting that she immediately tensed up as soon as he pointed it out.

"W-What? Tired? I-I have no idea what you're talking about," Marinette managed to stammer as she nervously smiled at the elderly man's straight face before dropping the façade.

"Okay, fine …" she admits as she flops onto her back with a groan. "I'm exhausted. We were running all over the city trying to stop all those rats from hurting people, while looking to find where Pied Piper was. There was just so much to do, so many rats to fight off …"

"You did wonderfully, Marinette," Tikki spoke up full of optimism as she float above her partner's worn out face. The kwami glances over at the Guardian who meets her eyes before he glances over at the phonograph, Tikki nodding with excitement before zooming off to Wayzz's resting place.

"Indeed you did," concurred Master Fu softly. "You and Cat Noir have both adapted and improved far quicker than many other Miraculous wielders have been able to. But you're not just feeling exhausted about today, are you?"

"How did you-?"

"It's written all over your face," he explains as Marinette sits up abruptly.

"You're right," she sighs dispiritedly after a pause as she pulls her legs up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. "I think it's to do with constantly keeping this double life a secret. I have so many responsibilities to the city as Ladybug, having to keep everyone safe and protect them from Hawk Moth, but I also have a lot of responsibilities to my friends, my parents, and myself, as Marinette. I keep feeling that the weight of both sets of responsibilities, both lives, is being carried on my back along with everyone's expectations. And that's just been on the holidays. School starts again in two days and then I'll have to worry about all my homework, projects and being class representative on top of everything else."

"A simple way to relieve some of your weight can be to talk to someone," Master Fu suggests, causing Marinette to look up at him in fatigue.

"There are a lot of times I wish I could," she admits, the ghost of a sad smile appearing on her rosy lips. "But no one can know. Not for the sake of Ladybug's identity."

"That's right," Tikki pipes up as she flies out of the horn of the phonograph. "You have to keep your identity a secret."

"Then why not talk to Cat Noir about it?" Master Fu asks, causing Marinette to perk up suddenly.

"But … he can't know either, can he?" she questions in confusion. "If I talk to him, then he could figure it out."

"Then talk to him as Ladybug," he reasoned. "Maybe he is going through a similar thing himself."

"Maybe …" she murmured more to herself than anyone else as she contemplated the idea. She hadn't considered talking to her superhero partner about her concerns, as her problems had always been with Marinette talking. After all, surely Ladybug had no one to confide her worries to. But talking to Cat Noir as Ladybug was always an option.

'Couldn't hurt to try, maybe _,_ ' the teenager mused to herself. 'I mean, he might not take it completely seriously, but he certainly does care … _'_

"And anyway, there is one person you can talk to who knows your identity," Master Fu continues, breaking the silence and snapping Marinette out of her thoughts in a panic.

"What?! Someone knows?! Who?"

"You're talking to him right now," he says, chuckling as her alarm gives way to the dawn of realisation.

"Oh, of course," she registered as her hands flung to her face, trying to cover it as she could feel her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Master Fu. It didn't even occur to me."

"It's alright, Marinette," he chuckled as she peered through her fingers to look at his kind face before giggling along as well. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Um, thanks but no thank you," Marinette replies as she stands up, pulling her phone out of her pocket and checking the time. "I really should be getting back home. I promised my parents I would help them out in the bakery today, and it's nearly time for me to be back. I really just meant to come by and check to make sure you were ok. The attack did come along this way, after all."

"Well, I do believe I am in fine shape," the elderly man noted as he made a show of checking himself, causing another giggle from Marinette. "Perhaps another time."

"Another time," she agreed as she got up. "Come on, Tikki."

"Okay!" Tikki's voice echoed from the horn before she flew out from within, speeding over to Marinette and bowing at the Guardian. "Goodbye, Master."

"Take care, Tikki. And take care of Marinette, too."

"Will do."

"Goodbye, Master Fu," Marinette called back as she opened up the door, pausing to wave at the Guardian of the Miraculous as her kwami zoomed around over her shoulder and into her purse before taking off, the door sliding slightly back but not fully closing.

With a soft smile gracing his kind face as he waved back to Marinette, Master Fu shuffled over to the door and completed closing the door just as Wayzz peered out of the phonograph. Seeing that the coast was clear, the turtle-like kwami floated out of the instrument and over to the Guardian as he leant up against the door, stroking his goatee in a thoughtful manner.

"What is it, master?" Wayzz inquired, noting the serious contemplative expression crossing his features.

"Perhaps it is time we offered some extra help to both of our young allies," Master Fu responded, his wise eyes shifting up towards his kwami companion. "Help ease their load, perhaps."

"But master, the reason we brought both Miraculous out of hiding was because you couldn't do it anymore," Wayzz reasoned.

"Because I couldn't do it _alone_ anymore," he pointed out as he walked across the room towards the phonograph. "But I wasn't talking about myself."

Reaching the musical instrument, the elderly man pressed both hands against the dull ruby eyes of two xialong dragons facing one another with fanged mouths open. With the simultaneous pressure, both eyes glowed causing the mouths to widen further and a sudden scrapping resonating a noise akin to the roar of a dragon. The Chinese plaque held within the fangs of the dragon flipped down, allowing a segment with nine wooden buttons to protrude out, five spaced on the top row and four spaced between on the bottom row. Master Fu proceeded to push, in order, the third, fourth and seventh buttons, activating the unlocking sequence. The record spun counter-clockwise slightly before the entire instrument and casing, save for the base, rotated clockwise, followed by the record continuing on clockwise a little more till it returned to its original position, before the record player hinged open from the side opposite to the horn. Two ivory white doors slide open to reveal an umber brown octagonal chest with streaks of scarlet red, a crimson red ornate symbol engraved into the lid.

"You want to give out more Miraculous, master?" Wayzz questioned with a touch of surprise in his voice.

"We don't have many other options, Wayzz," Master Fu replied as he opened up the chest to reveal a five petal flower outlined in gold, each petal contained a tipped point and was filled with a different colour and symbol, along with a central circle segment.

The bottommost petal segment is cerulean blue, with an aegean blue symbol of a peacock's tail in the centre. Moving clockwise, the next portion is lilac purple with the violet symbol of a butterfly, followed by a merigold petal with the tiger orange symbol of a hooked tail, within which lay a golden chained necklace attached with a white-tipped orange fox tail pendant. Next in line is a bumblebee yellow division with a honey yellow symbol of a bee and, like the previous section, had an adorning accessory positioned within; a golden bee-themed comb, the wings stretching out from the bee design to form the arch from which nine teeth stretched out. Finally, the fifth segment is shamrock green with an emerald green symbol of a turtle shell and, like the first two petals, was empty of any accessories. The centre is raised above the rest of the sections and decorated with a yin-yang symbol. The black segment of yin is outlined in candy red, the same colour as the red circle with five black spots within, while the white segment of yang is outlined in black with a silver paw print encircled within a silver edged ring.

Rummaging through one of the drawers in front of him, Master Fu pulls out two hexagonal boxes, small enough to fit within the palm of his hand, that are almost identical to the chest within the phonograph, outside of their geometric shape and size. Opening both of them up to reveal their velvet red insides, he sets the small tiny chests down before grabbing both bee comb and fox-tail necklace and placing each within their own separate chest. Closing the hexagonal boxes, the Guardian then reaches to close the octagonal chest within the phonograph like normal, but hesitates just as he was about to fasten the lid shut.

"Master?" Wayzz spoke up as he glanced between Master Fu and the chest.

"Do you feel that, Wayzz?" Master Fu asked as he stared at the case transfixed, looking at it as if something within was calling out to him.

"I do," the kwami replied after a pause, giving a couple of short nods. "The Miraculous …"

"Maybe it is time for some of the others to reawaken once more."

* * *

Rising out from the streets of Paris stood the AccorHotels Arena, a grand eight-sided pyramidal stadium, its main entrance walled with several panes of glass and roof slopped with both ramps and stairways leading up to the upper levels on both sides. All of the slopped exterior walls, save for the main entrance, are covered in soft rolling lawns of grass, separated by stairways and ramps leading up and down from the street level to the second and top levels, or by entrances leading into the complex. A popular arena for many various sporting events, concerts and performances, today hundreds and hundreds of civilians have thronged to the main entrance, kept away by a long line of security barricades that formed a pathway leading from a sectioned off set of car parks along Rue de Bercy **(Street of Bercy/Bercy Street)** to the Grand Hall entrance, lined by many security guards along the barricades.

The crowd of people began to cheer loudly as a glossy white limo pulled up into the reserved parking spaces, the vehicle coming to a stop before a tall woman with raven black hair in a short bob hairstyle, dressed in a sharp white business suit and black collared shirt underneath, steps out from the left hand door and walks around. As she opens up the door on the right hand side, the crowd's cheers roared louder as a youthful girl shyly steps out of the limo. Short in stature, the teenage girl was towered over by the woman who opened the door for her. Her skin carries quite a pale tone, combining together with her long silvery-white hair that seems to glimmer in the daylight, curling down and reaching past her shoulders. Dressed in a black and silver stripped shirt, the silver stripes covered with bars of musical notes, with a white designer jacket over the top, a plain black mid-length skirt, long white stockings and a pair of black platform boots, her pale blue eyes dart around nervously at the crowd before her faint pink lips form a small timid smile. Signs of love and adoration are raised into the air by her admiring fans as she slowly walks down the pathway, clutching the white leather handbag slung over her right shoulder and giving her supporters a tentative wave as she passes them by, led by the tall business woman, though she would occasionally walk over to young fans on both sides to give them an autograph.

"Come on, Selena," the business woman, her agent, would say every now and again, hurrying the nervous girl up and causing her to unfortunately miss out some of her supporters.

Despite her apparent shyness and tentativeness, her mood truly seems to lighten up when she starts to see all the little kids waving at her, some on the ground holding onto the barricades and others held up in the arms of their parents. Her stiff posture relaxes considerably as she moves over to a young girl in particular, looking no older than five, golden hair pulled back into a ponytail and with a bright yellow sunflower in her hair.

"Hello," the teenage superstar says softly, the girl's father stepping as far forwards as he can for his girl to talk.

"Hello," the young girl replies brightly with a big toothy grin, the sight of which causing the teenage girl to finally show her own sweet smile.

"I like your flower," Selena says as she moves a black lace gloved hand to the young girl's hair, her hand inadvertently brushing against her hair as she delicately touched the petals of the sunflower. "Where did you get it from?"

"From our garden!" the girl declares with excitement before pointing at her idol's neck. "What's that?" Selena looked down to the silver chain around her neck, feeling at the necklace with her laced glove before pulling out the heart-shaped locket attached to the chain that she had tucked into her shirt for safe keeping.

"This is a necklace I got from my brother," she answers, holding up the locket for the five year old to see.

"It's pretty. Is he going to see you sing too?"

"I'm afraid not," Selena replied quietly, her brightened face quickly turning to sorrow. "He's … he's not here right now."

"I'm sorry," the girl's father apologised. The teenager looked up at him and tried to give him a reassuring smile, but could only manage a tiny one.

"Selena, we don't have time for this," her agent said bluntly, having to walk over to the teenage sensation. "Come on."

"Okay-"

"When I grow up, I wanna be a singer like you," the little girl confessed, cutting into Selena's attention.

"Well, if you practice long and hard, I'm sure you'll be a wonderful singer," Selena responded, bopping her finger on the nose of the little girl and making her giggle. She let out a small laugh due to the contagious nature of her young fan's smile as she waved goodbye, the young girl waving back.

Walking along the pathway to the stadium, with her agent keeping a closer eye on her every time she deviated for some fans to make sure she didn't take too long, Selena's posture seemed to return to her initial shy, anxious form, though now she would also cast her eyes down despondently to the ground from time to time. Despite trying to look at least a bit cheerful for her supporters, a deep sadness seemed to linger in everything she did, in her eyes, smile, wave and stride, a sadness that no amount of adulation could shake. Yet her attention is caught when she spots an elderly man, dressed in a red Hawaiian shirt patterned with white Hibiscus flowers and tanned cagri shorts, walking stick in hand, struggling to push back against the crowd of people surging forwards to see her as he is pressed into the barricade, seemingly unseen by the security guards.

"Whoa, hold on!" Selena cries out just before the elderly man spills out onto the ground along with the barricade he was held against, detaching from the links to the security barricades on either side. While the security members quickly rush over to stop the flood of fans from rushing forwards to the teenage sensation, Selena quickly hurries over to the old man, picking up his walking stick that had scattered out of his grasp in the fall. "Are you alright, sir?"

"I'm quite alright, my dear," he replies as she helps him slowly get to his feet and hands him his walking stick. "Ah, thank you."

"Are you sure? I can go get you some help if you need it-"

"I'm fine, Miss. Really," he affirms, raising a hand to politely cut her off. "I should probably go look for my granddaughter. Make sure she's alright."

"Please let me help," Selena blurts out. "I can probably get a few people along to help you search for her. What does she look like?"

"Selena, we don't have time for this," her agent repeats as she puts a firm hand on her shoulder.

"But Laura, he-"

"I'll be alright, Miss," the old man reassures. "I'm sure I'll manage fine on my own."

"There are so many people here. Surely you'll need some assistance?" Selena questions, determined to offer any help she can to the elderly man.

"Come on, Selena. We're running out of time."

"Just a second, Laura," the teenage singer responds as she turns to face her agent. As she spins around to talk to the old man once more, she is surprised to find that he had already vanished from sight, the crowd back under control and the barricade locked into place with a security guard standing over it. Turning her head side to side in concern, Selena could not find either head or tail of the man she helped, nor any sight of where he could have disappeared to through the multitude of bodies.

"Where did he go?"

"Come on, Selena," her agent said firmly, a touch of impatience getting into her voice as she put a hand on her shoulder and almost dragged her for a few steps before the teenager began walking under her own command.

"Ok, I'm coming."

Eventually she made it into the stadium, the roar of support for her muffled as the doors close shut behind her, and she lets out a loud sigh before noticing Laura bringing two people over to her. One is a middle aged man, tall with a slightly rotund figure, greying hair combed back with cerulean blue eyes and a distinct lack of chin, dressed in a charcoal grey jacket buttoned up from the waist showing the white shirt and scarlet tie underneath, and a matching handkerchief folded in his chest pocket. His slacks match the colour of his jacket, his black shoes have been polished till they shine, and across his torso he has a vivid red, white and regal blue sash, like the French flag, tied off at his hip with golden tassels. The other was a girl, a teenager like herself, with silky honey blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail at the base of her head and a pair of white rimmed sunglasses sitting atop her head. Her face is covered in makeup, a peach coloured blush powdered over her cheeks, nude pink lipstick coating her lips and blue eyeshadow matching the colour of her eyes, eyes looking nearly identical to those of the man standing next to her. She wore a white and black stripped shirt with a long sleeved glossy canary jacket over the top, white jean capris held up by a diamond-studded belt, and dressy white shoes with black lining and soles.

"Selena, this is André Bourgeois, the Mayor of Paris," Laura introduces, the tall man giving her a polite nod of the head.

"It is an honour to have you performing in our fair city, Ms Selena Leveque," Mayor Bourgeois expressed formally, the delight clearly showing in his voice and face.

"It's a pleasure to do so, Mayor Bourgeois," Selena replied with a bow.

"I would like to introduce my daughter, Chloé," the mayor said, putting his hand on the back of the girl beside him. Chloé pretentiously stood before the superstar with an overly egocentric air surrounding her.

"It's so amazing that I get to meet such an incredible rising star," Chloé lauds a little too sweetly, grabbing the singer's hands in her own.

"Th-Thanks … I think."

"It must be awesome being the most adored person in the country right now. Well, apart from my family, of course."

"Um … I really don't think-"

"And you must have so many contacts for your fame. Musicians, agents, fashion designers."

"I-It's not really my-"

"Oh how silly of me. I should get a photo to commemorate this," Chloé declared as she bounded next to Selena and put an arm around her.

"What are you-" Selena began to ask before being once again cut off by the extremely vain and self-serving girl.

"It's not every day that you get the two most worshipped girls in the world together in the same place, after all," Chloé explained as she pulled Selena in towards her and raised her phone up above them. "Smile!"

"What-?" Selena started before the camera took the picture, the flash from the phone going off brightly in her face. She staggered a little away to rub her eyes as Chloé lets go and looks down at her phone.

"Well, I look perfect, as expected," Chloé boasted. "And I guess you look good as well. But your smile is all wonky."

"I guess I'm a little camera shy …" Selena mumbled as she blinked and rubbed her eyes, looking to regain her vision after being temporarily blinded by the sudden flash of light.

"You? Camera shy?" Chloé queried dismissively. "Nonsense. There isn't a celebrity on the planet that doesn't like being in front of the camera. Come on, let's take another and get it right."

"Uh … n-no thanks," the singer stammered as she backed away from the advancing daughter of the mayor, both girls stopping when Laura steps in between them.

"Ms. Leveque needs to get ready for her concert," Laura states firmly, looking down with a stern gaze at Chloé. "We're nearly behind schedule as it is. She doesn't have time to waste fraternising with attention seekers."

"Excuse me?!" the spoiled teenage girl questioned, her pompous vanity showing through. "I have not, am not, and never will be, a waste of anyone's time. How dare you accuse me-?"

"Chloé, that's enough!" Mayor Bourgeois admonished sternly, catching a startled look from his daughter.

"But father-"

"I'm sorry. Please, don't let us hold you up," Mayor Bourgeois respectfully declared, ignoring his daughter and giving both singer and agent a bow. Laura returns the gesture with a polite nod before quickly whisking Selena away down through the arena, to the singer's great relief.

"That girl needs to be taught some respect," Laura sneered as soon as they were out of earshot, having disappeared down a couple of corridors and through a door securely locked and watched by several guards.

"Thank you, Laura," Selena said gratefully, receiving no verbal reply from her agent. However, she did put an arm around the smaller girl and bring her closer, rubbing her shoulder warm-heartedly.

After a few minutes of the two making their way down through the multitude of corridors, they finally arrive outside of a wooden door with a plaque addressed 'Dressing Room 1'. Upon opening the door, they are shown a mid-sized room paved with colour. Three of the four walls have a rainbow of colours splashed every which way against the white background, as if someone had taken several water balloons and filled them with different coloured paints before hurling them at the wall. The fourth wall, the one directly opposite of them as they entered, was almost completely covered by a giant mirror, save for the section underneath the long table pressed against the same wall. The table stretched across half of the wall and was covered in various makeup utensils; powders, blushes, eyeliners, along with a couple of hairdryers, combs and scissors. The space underneath showed the plain white wall with a few power sockets if needed, with four spinning chairs spread evenly along. Within the rest of the room was a small bench with bowels of snacks and bottles of soft drink, a long couch pressed against the nearby wall, a large flat screen TV and a plain screen divider tucked into the corner for changing behind.

"Ok, the makeup artists should be here in a few minutes to get you prepped up," Laura stated as she started listing through the schedule on her tablet, Selena taking a seat in one of the spinning chairs and laying her handbag on her lap. "You'll have time in thirty minutes to walk around on the stage, practice a little and do our sound checks before Gabriel Agreste arrives with your dresses for tonight in an hour. You'll go through a final makeup phase in two hours' time, then we get you all dressed, mic'd up and we'll be live."

"What about my parents?"

"They should be here after your rehearsal."

"Okay. Thank you, Laura."

"I'll be waiting outside. Let me know if you need anything."

"I will."

With nothing else to report, Laura strode out of the room and closed the door behind her. With no one else around, Selena let out a long sigh that had been building up inside since she'd hopped inside the limo that had brought her here and rested her face in her hands. Slowly breathing in and out, she could feel her heart pounding away inside her chest, a thumping that would only get louder and more frantic the closer she got to show time.

"Calm down, there's no need to be nervous. It's just another concert. You've gotten through all the others fine. This is just going to be the largest crowd you've ever performed in front of …" Selena muttered aloud to herself, her voice soft and timid. "Oh, who am I kidding? This never works before any of my concerts."

She rather ungently dumped her handbag onto the desk before her and went to lay her head down as well, but stopped as she noticed something unusual scatter out of it. Rolling out of the handbag was a small umber brown and scarlet red box, hexagonal in shape, with a tiny brown string tied around and into a small knot, easy to undo.

"I never put this in my bag," she noted as she took the box in her hand, feeling it around. As she turned the box upside down, she noticed a small piece of faded yellow parchment underneath, held in place by the string. She quickly undid the knot and took the parchment as it fluttered down onto the desk, unfolding it to find a small written note within.

 _For your kind heart._

 _– The Old Man_

"The Old Man?" Selena read aloud, frowning at the note. "The same one I saw earlier? How in the world did he get this into my handbag?"

Exchanging the note in her hands for the box lying on the table, she rolled the item around to observe it from all angles. Seeing nothing to be obviously suspicious, save for how someone could have placed the item in her bag without her noticing, she flipped it to how she deemed to be right side up, with the elegant ornate design on top.

' _This could easily be a trap,_ ' the singer considered, deliberating whether or not to trust the container or not. ' _But he seemed harmless enough, I guess._ '

Furrowing her brow, she strongly shook her head in an attempt to clear her head of her contrasting rational and paranoid thoughts.

'Oh what am I thinking? It's just the nerves getting to you. It's just the nerves messing with your head, like always. Still … No. No, it'll be fine. I'm going to open it. I'm _going_ to open it.'

Gripping the small box tightly, with one gloved hand on top and the other on the bottom, she mentally willed herself to open the container. But, despite her will urging her to look at the contents inside, her body refused to listen – refused to open the box. Silently cursing herself for her hesitance and reducing her verbal berating to a frustrated sigh, Selena pressed her hands and the box to her head and held it there firmly. Suddenly a sharp rap on the door catches the teenage girl by surprise, the worry and conflict over the small container taking her out from the rest of the world. The box flies out of her grip into the air, with the singer juggling it rapidly before finally clutching it once again in her grasp.

"Selena?" a flamboyant male voice queries from the other side of the door, Selena instantly recognising it as her makeup artist. "Are you presentable?"

"J-Just a second!" she squeaks back as she quickly puts the box, note and string from the gift into her handbag and pulling out her phone, placing the mobile device on the bench before her and tossed her handbag over to the couch in a panic, the bag landing with a bounce before stopping quite neatly against the far armrest. Selena silently berated herself once again for her anxiety and previous hesitance as she breathed deeply in and out in an effort to calm herself down. "Come in."

* * *

" _Flight EK 407 from Dubai to Paris has arrived at Gate C85,_ " declared the soft feminine voice over the intercom as passengers of the recently arrived flight began to spill out from the opened gate doors. " _All passengers please collect your luggage and proceed to customs. We at Charles de Gaulle Airport welcome you to Paris and hope you enjoy your stay in France."_

As the flood of passengers spill into the bustling Terminal 2C of Paris' large international airport, three of the passengers split off from the crowd and stand off by the seating for their gate, gazing at the entirely new surroundings for them all. Arches of glass and laminated wood stretch out before them along the cylindrical corridor, the floor beneath the commuters paved with rich velvet red carpet that matched the covers of the seats outside each gate. The sky's warm golden hue illuminated the world outside, the peaceful glow of sunset radiating through the glass and bathing the complex in a soft light from the west, darkness slowly creeping in from the east helped by the long shadows cast by the hundreds of travellers walking to and fro.

"Okay, we need to get our bags," one of the three travellers who had stepped off to the side said. The oldest of the three, she stood at an average height, about 5 foot 7 inches, with tanned skin and golden brown hair cut shoulder length. She wore a plain white shirt with a cloud grey woollen cardigan over the top, long denim jeans and flat white sneakers. Slung over one shoulder was a jet black satchel, held in place by her hand to make sure it didn't manage to fall off or be stolen. Holding onto her other hand was a very young boy, wearily rubbing his sleepy eyes with a small closed hand. With a tuft of chestnut hair sticking up from the rest clinging to his head and red rosy cheeks, the young boy looked as if he had only just been woken up. Atop his torso was a navy blue jumper with red collar and cuffs, a vivid red steam train design stitched into the centre, while covering his slumping legs were a pair of khaki cargo shorts, while a pair of black velcro shoes protected his feet. "Which way do we go?"

"Following the others from our flight would probably be a start," the third passenger, another boy, answered bluntly, his voice a little deep and gruff. He stood taller than the woman beside him, presumably his mother, at six feet tall. His messy ashen brown hair grew wild and long, reaching his shoulders while a few strands and bangs came down to cover his hazel eyes until he brushed them back up, matched by the bristles of sideburns growing down his jawline. He wore a white t-shirt decorated with an obsidian black and storm grey dragon across the front, large wings unfurled with the head tilted off to the side as it spewed out a blue flame, and a pair of black sports tracksuit pants with three white stripes going down either leg and a pair of white and cobalt blue cross trainers. Slung over his shoulders is a large ruby red, steel grey and white hiking backpack, while hanging around his neck is a white bone koru spiral pendant attached to a black cord necklace.

"Can you see a directory anywhere?" the mother asked her older son, scanning around the corridor in front of them.

"Mummy …" the young boy by her side yawned as he tugged on her hand, "can I go sleep now?"

"Not yet, sweetie," she replied as she crouched down, wrapping her other arm around his waist and hoisted him up. She cradled the toddler to her chest as he wrapped a weary arm around her neck and lay his head down on her shoulder. "We need to get our bags first."

"I can see a sign over there," the older boy relayed as he pointed off towards their right and in the direction to the rest of the airport, his extra height letting him see over more of the crowd than his mother. "That might tell us."

With a nod, they both walk along the corridor till they reach a large sign standing in the entranceway to the rest of the complex, sitting on the point where the red velvet carpet stops and is replaced by shiny polished marble white floors, the cylindrical walkway opening up to a brightly lit, wide open, curved terminal, filled with bustling travellers either having just arrived or about to leave the City of Light. Before them stretched lines of lively boutiques and food stalls, people mixing between shops with the intent of purchasing gifts or a last meal before their long journeys through the heavens of the world. As his mother's eyes examined the sign, indeed to their luck being a map of the terminal, the teenage boy's attention was caught by the clatter of several items falling onto the hard floor to his left, resonating above the sound of feet constantly stepping on the surface. Upon turning to the source of the noise, the adolescent saw through the crowd an elderly man, hair receding and greying, dressed in a red Hawaiian t-shirt patterned with white hibiscus flowers and tanned cagri shorts, on his hands and knees. Scattered before him lay a yam orange walking stick as well as a paper bag, several umber brown and scarlet red hexagonal boxes having spilled out along with a couple of small plain unlabelled packages.

"I'll just be a minute," the teenager called out over his shoulder, not waiting for any sign of acknowledgement from his mother before moving over to assist the old man who had managed to get ahold of his walking stick.

"Ah, thank you, my boy," the elderly man sighed in relief as the boy crouched down and started to gather the hexagonal boxes and place them within the bag. Working together, it did not take long for the two to them to collect all the items and store them inside the paper bag, despite the constant stream of people walking around them seemingly without taking notice of either male, before the young foreigner helped the aging man to his feet. "It's nice to see that some young people are still nice enough to help their elders."

"My pleasure," he replied with a nod. "That's a lot of gifts you have."

"Well, I have quite a large family," the elder remarked with a chuckle.

"Well then, don't let me keep you."

"Take care, my child."

"You too," the adolescent replied as he watched the elderly man meander away with the assistance of his walking stick, disappearing into the crowd of people. As he made to spin around and head back to his mother and brother, his foot brushed into an unexpected obstacle, one that clattered away from his touch. Looking down to see what he had nearly stepped on, he noticed that it was another box identical to the ones the old man had in his paper bag.

"I thought we picked up all of these," he muttered to himself as he bent down and picked up the container, clutching it in the palm of his hand. Spinning around in the direction he saw the man walk off into, he scanned the crowds and the shops for any sign of him before his sharp sight spotted him quite some distance away by a coffee shop, a distance he thought was quite surprising to have been covered due to the slow strolling pace he had taken.

"Okay, I know where we have to go, Jason," the mother said, making the adolescent spin around to look at her. With a rushed step, he quickly moved over to the map and noted where they needed to go, along with the shop he saw the old man at.

"Right, you two go on ahead," Jason stated as he made to take off. "Wait for me by the baggage carousel. I'll meet you both there."

"Where are you going?"

"I've got to return this to the person who dropped it," he replied quickly before taking off.

With an agile shuffle and quick light step, the teenager deftly moved between the traffic of people, slow moving and incoming. Managing to avoid coming into contact with any of the throng, he passed into the space just as the old man was leaving, a warm drink in his hand with the paper bag wrapped around by his arm. By the way he was looking, it appeared that he was talking and chuckling quietly to himself.

"Excuse me," Jason stated as he lunged forward and lightly tapped his shoulder.

"Ah, we meet again," the old man stated cheerfully as he turned around, a genuinely surprised expression flashing across his face before returning to its usual calm kind appearance. "How can I help you, my boy?"

"I believe this is yours," the teenager declared as he held up the box for the elder to see. "We must have managed to miss it somehow."

"Ah, yes. Indeed it is," he replied as he eyed the box, resting the walking stick against his leg and taking the box as the adolescent handed it to him, before gesturing to his warm drink. "Would you mind?"

"Of course" Jason said as he took the drink to free up his hands, the gentle aroma of freshly poured tea wafting up from the takeaway cup. He watched on as the elderly man eyed the returned box carefully, as if looking for some sort of sign to spring out at him, while glancing back at the adolescent every now and then.

"Why don't you take it instead?" the aging man offered to the teenager's surprise, holding the box out for the boy with a gentle smile.

"Isn't it meant to be a gift for your family?"

"I always bring some extras just in case. You never really know which a person is meant to have, so I like having some extra options. Besides, it is still a gift, if you consider it a thank you gift."

"Well, I guess," the boy replied as he took the gift and returned the elder's cup of tea. "Thank you." He made to turn around, but stopped mid-step and looked back down at the elder.

"Just to be sure, but there isn't anything dangerous in here, right?" he questioned as he held the box up slightly. "I am going to be walking through customs with it."

"I wouldn't be trying to get through with all of these if they were, would I?" the old man answered with a chuckle.

"Good point," the boy remarked, a ghost of a smile touching his lips as he looked down at the box again, turning to walk away. Stopping himself after a couple of steps, he spun back around and started to say, "Are you sure you're okay with me-" before stopping himself as he found the old man to have vanished once more. Looking around for him once more, he managed to catch a glimpse of him walking into a corridor before disappearing from sight again.

"Definitely fast for an old guy," he softly remarked as he tossed the box up to himself, the ghost of a smile turning into an amused smirk before he started making his way towards the baggage reclaim zone, pocketing the gift inside his backpack as he goes.

From within the empty side corridor, this one leading towards the male bathroom, the elderly man watched the adolescent disappear into the throng of travellers with an intrigued eye, stroking his grey goatee with a free hand. From behind, a small green kwami complete with turtle shell on his back peeked over his shoulder, hovering just out of sight of any eyes that might manage to stray over in their direction.

"He has some sharp senses," Wayzz remarked as the two observed the boy walking into the crowd, finally passing from sight amongst the many bodies. "It is surprising he managed to find us after we moved the first time."

"Indeed," Master Fu agreed with a smile. "Maybe he'll finally be happy with this connection."

* * *

 **AN: So there you go. One chapter down, several to go. Hopefully you weren't too overwhelmed by this as an opener. As you can see, my style can simply be described as descriptive and long.**

 **There are probably a few things I need to say at this stage. Firstly, and less tied to this story, I am actually the leader of a writing group based on here called the G.M.A.D. We have mainly been focused around what's known as the Big Four (How To Train Your Dragon, Rise Of The Guardians, Brave and Tangled), but, as I've no doubt shown by turning up here, we aren't limited to. If anyone is interested in joining, or would like more information, by all means give me a PM.**

 **Secondly, I do know that there can be a general feeling that people don't necessarily want too many people getting Miraculous, especially outside the Parisians. To somewhat alleviate any fears, I don't have plans to introduce too many, and I'll leave it at that. Thirdly, I was going to write both Jason and Selena meeting their kwamis, but decided against doing so for two reasons: it would have made the chapter too long, and it makes it more 'fun' for you speculating not only if they turn up when they turn up, but also if I've given out any more Miraculous. Also, you don't know what the Miraculous look like. All that information will, obviously, be introduced later.**

 **Finally, as far as uploads go, I get things done as I get them done. I'm hoping that it won't take too long to pump out the next chapter, but I'm not going to guarantee it. I've tried to keep to a schedule in the past and failed horribly in doing so after a while. So, if you are interested, it's best you do follow and/or fav to make sure you do know when it is uploaded. And if there is a very long gap, please don't just assume I've given up on it. I will let you know if I do end up discontinuing any story, so if there's no notice, then no need to worry. Just be patient.**

 **As I normally say, please fav and/or follow if you enjoyed this or are intrigued. Leave a review with any praise or constructive criticism (always welcome), and feel free to PM if you have any ideas or questions (questions I will try to answer without spoiling what comes next). I do have a plan for this, in a sense, but it's not overarching or set in stone. Plus, there will more than likely be some changes depending on what happens in Season 2 (there is already some stuff I have planned that is somewhat dependent on Season 2 information). So, if you have any ideas that you'd like included, by all means let me know and, if I like it and think it works, I'll include it and credit you. I will, however, draw the line at reveals and relationships, as what I have planned for that I'm not in a position to change.**

 **Anyway, sorry for the long spiel. I'll see you all next time. Until then, adios!**


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